Reunion
by BlazerKnight
Summary: It's been three years since Soul has become a Death Scythe, after which Maka left Shibusen for reasons undisclosed. Now, she's back, but can they reestablish their partnership? Soul x Maka
1. Her Return

**Reunion**

**01 – Her Return**

**Author's note:** I began writing this in June 2009. Chronologically, it is set roughly around chapter 62, after Soul becomes a Death Scythe. It may be rendered incongruous with the timeline by future developments in the manga, but hopefully the story has enough merit to stand on its own. Please read and review! Thanks.

* * *

"It's been a while," Maka said.

Soul ran a hand through his hair, unkempt as ever. "Yeah, long time no see,"

They looked each other over. Three years. The changes were visible. She had a fuller body and longer hair – still tied in twin tails though. He was rather tall now, with a physique to match. The air grew heavy with awkward silence.

Words went unsaid. Feelings were shut away, to be later mulled over in private. Instead, they walked up the street to the local café. They found alfresco seating on a gazebo that overlooked the rest of Death City.

Soul asked the waitress for his usual. Maka had to request a menu.

The clouds moved gently across the stark blue sky, casting dappled light on their table. He watched as Maka squinted to make out the words between the shifting shadows. Her brow was furrowed in concentration. Just like when she pored over books in the school library oh-so-long ago. The memory brought an unbidden smile to his face. He'd be laughing over comics with Black Star, while Maka tried to shush them, pointing at her book to indicate that _some_ people were trying to study.

"Why are you smiling?" He was pulled out of his reverie.

"Oh, nothing," Inwardly, Soul sighed. He used to know Maka. But the girl sitting across the table was an unknown quantity to him. How much had she changed, really? The conversation thus far had been neither particularly warm nor cold. He turned his gaze to the setting sun, whose mouth was agape in mid-yawn. The waitress brought him his drink.

"I can't really decide on anything," She handed the menu back.

"Well, you can share mine. I can vouch for its chocolaty goodness."

She looked taken aback, for just a moment, before smiling. "We'll need another straw, please,"

Soul tried to hide his mixture of joy, relief and surprise; it wasn't cool to lose one's composure. He hadn't really expected her to take up the offer. As he grappled with this new turn of events, the waitress returned with a straw. Maka's eyes widened as she took the first sip.

"This is really good! I can see why you like it,"

He flashed one of his trademark grins. "Yeah, I come here most evenings, to blow off some steam and relax with a glass of my favourite drink,"

"Alone?" she asked, looking concerned. His heart skipped a beat before his mouth took over.

"Yeah, Black Star's too noisy, and Kid would criticize the furniture, or something." He paused, then added quietly, "It's been kinda lonely ever since you left,"

She appeared not to notice this last comment – her face remained inscrutable. Soul decided to shut up and drink. Maka just so happened to have the same thought, causing their foreheads to collide briefly.

"Gomen! I didn't mean to..." she began.

"It's not your fault," he interrupted. Her face was flushed with embarrassment. Was this really his meister? She used to be comfortable with physical contact – heck, they wouldn't have been able to fight otherwise. This was not going well.

As night fell, they headed back to the apartment. Despite her time spent away, Maka still knew the winding pathways like the back of her hand. She ran ahead, taking in the sights, noting what had changed and what hadn't. Soul trailed a little behind, hands in pockets, as she scurried from house to house. He couldn't help but notice that her stride was the same – elegant, confident and athletic. It was her, alright. What had changed between them, then? They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. He knew it was true. Did she?

When they reached their destination, Maka was appalled at the condition it was in. It looked as though he'd never bothered to clean it since she'd left. Magazines, clothes, and plates of unfinished food were strewn across every available surface. He looked a bit sheepish, and offered excuses. "Been busy with Death Scythe business, y'know. Running around, doing errands for Shinigami-sama, banishing evil, etcetera,"

Maka looked unconvinced. "Well, as long as I'm here, I won't stand for this mess. We'll start cleaning up in the morning." Threading her way carefully through the debris, she made her way to her former room. "I bet there'll be cobwebs all over – "

She gasped. Her room was in an immaculate state. Were the floors... polished? She gave Soul a quizzical look. He looked even more sheepish this time round. "Er, I know you don't like a mess. So I cleaned your room up when I heard you were coming back,"

"B-but... even the books..." she trailed off. It was on a night like this that she'd tossed her favourite books into a duffel bag, unable to see clearly through the tears, just wanting to disappear as quickly as possible. She'd left her collection in a mess...

"Yeah, I got Kid to come over and arrange them. It was pretty funny, watching him agonize over whether to arrange them categorically or symmetrically," He leaned against the doorframe as he spoke. "In the end I had to blindfold him so he wouldn't pass out from the asymmetry."

Maka laughed – an experience that she hadn't truly enjoyed for a long time. For years she'd been wandering, lost and alone. Now, back in Death City, with a grinning rogue in her doorway, she finally felt at home.

"Good night, Soul,"

"Good night, Maka,"


	2. Obligations

**02 – Obligations**

**Author's note:** Thank you for the kind reviews! Feedback really means a lot to me – it's my incentive to write. Sorry about the delayed update, other commitments got in the way. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Maka woke to the smell of bacon and eggs. She was momentarily confused, before remembering that she was back _home_. It was good to know that. Only after rubbing the grit out of her eyes did she realize she must have overslept. Soul caught a glimpse of white nightgown as she dashed from her room. "Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes!" he yelled, while flipping the eggs in the pan.

She stared at her reflection while brushing her teeth. Green eyes stared back. The last time she looked into this mirror, she was a head shorter. Her face has changed subtly, too – it was a face that had held pain and sorrow. As though her features held the memory of the nights she cried herself to sleep. Not wanting to dwell on the past, she spat in the sink and hurried out.

Soul, clad in an apron, was setting the table. They exchanged the morning's greetings before she tucked into her meal. It was the best she'd eaten in ages. Whether by virtue of his cooking or simply because he'd made it for her, it didn't matter. While she ate, her gaze followed him to the kitchen to sneak glances. Upturned sleeves revealed toned arms, now covered in suds as he scrubbed the frying pan. If only he knew how much she'd missed him... _Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course he wouldn't know, I haven't told him anything yet._ She chided herself, deciding to look out the open window instead.

When he sat down to eat with her, she looked rather contemplative, with perhaps a tinge of sadness. Questions that had niggled at him for ages now rose to the fore. Why had she left? She had just disappeared without warning, shortly after obtaining their hundredth (or two-hundredth) soul. He nearly went after her, intending to scour the Nevadan desert for any trace of her passage. But Shinigami-sama had ordered otherwise, saying something about "just like her mother".

He should've defied his orders in those early days, when there was still a chance of finding her. Instead he stayed, and for his decision, his only companion in those long years was regret. Daily, wracking regret. The knowledge that he had failed – as a partner and a friend – tore at him constantly. And now, here she was eating breakfast with him, back as suddenly as she had left. What made her return?

Neither of them noticed that the other was not eating. Both were too caught up in thought. Maka was worrying about her appointment with Shinigami-sama. She'd sent him news of her return via frosted mirror, and he wanted to meet her upon arrival. She wasn't proud of her decisions. To leave her home, her friends… It would be painful to explain. Soul noticed her lingering anxiety.

"Are you okay, Maka? You know… you can talk to me about anything. We're partners,"

The word that went unsaid, but nonetheless passed through their minds – _were_. We _were_ partners.

She left the table without a word. Soul took a look at her half-eaten breakfast, and sighed. Was his cooking still that bad?

Maka sat on her bed, clutching her pillow close to her chest. Outside, there was the sound of clattering dishes. She'd expected him to resent her. Instead, he was offering to listen. Somehow, that was more painful. How could she have abandoned such a caring partner? What had she done with the past three years of her life, instead of spending it with him? Nothing. She'd achieved nothing on her journey.

But there was no time to be lachrymose. She had obligations to fulfil.

Maka emerged from her bedroom, looking transformed. She wore a white, double-breasted cloak with cloud motifs sewn into the fabric. Soul goggled at the sight below her hemline – her sleek, slender legs seemed to stretch for miles. It was all he could do to contain his drool.

"Er, the motorbike is downstairs. I'll be with you in a minute." Now it was his turn to hurry to the bedroom, for a tissue to stop the nosebleed. After that crisis was averted, he began dressing. Nowadays, his usual attire was a sharp, black suit. Just as he finished fastening his tie, faint laughter drifted through the window. Curiosity got the better of him.

At the foot of the apartment block, Maka was chatting with neighbours, reacquainting herself with old friends. It was reassuring to see that she wasn't completely depressed. Her laugh recalled memories of better times together. Her had always been the counterweight to his cynicism. _I might have to cut it short though_, he thought, as he went downstairs to join her. They had an appointment to catch.

* * *

Shinigami's chambers were as mystifying as ever. To begin with, the "room", if it can even be called one, stretched out in all directions with fields of unmarked graves. The arches that lined the path held ominous guillotine blades right above their heads. Yet, in sharp contrast to the macabre furnishings, they were surrounded by a clear blue sky. Such was the duality of Shinigami-sama, whose cheery demeanour belied his role as the god of death.

Speaking of which, the god of death was having a tea party.

Spirit, Sid, and Stein were seated on tatami mats, all overshadowed by the physical anomaly of Shinigami's form. They were casually chatting between tea and crumpets. With some hesitancy, Maka cleared her throat.

To Spirit, when he turned and caught sight of her, it was a momentous occasion. Finally seeing his beloved daughter for the first time in years, he leapt to his feet, overturning the table and scattering food everywhere. He then practically sailed through the air, wailing "Makaaaaaaaaaaa…!"

To Maka, this was her melodramatic dad being an idiot, as usual. She sidestepped his lunge, leaving him to crash unceremoniously into the floor. Unfazed, he got up and squashed her in a bear hug, blood and tears mixing as they streamed down his face. "Maka, do you know how worried Papa was? How I'd missed you and –"

He was abruptly interrupted by a swift book to the head.

Soul was rather amused by this exchange. They shared a strange father/daughter relationship, indeed. At one point, he could've sworn to see the hint of a smile on Maka's face, as her father clung to her ankles.

"Oho, nice to see you back, Maka-san," said Shinigami in his lackadaisical voice, clutching a delicate teacup in his oversized fingers.

"You wanted to s… see me, Shinigami-sama?"

"Oh yes, we'd like to hear all about your travels! Especially Spirit-san, haha. You must have seen many fascinating things, no?"

Maka was quite taken aback - she'd been dreading a lecture or perhaps even punishment. She hurried to marshal her thoughts.

"Err, I did get to see the Grand Canyon and Niagara Falls…"

The ever-pragmatic Sid interjected with the question that Soul had been dying to ask. "Actually, Maka, we're curious as to why you left…"

She gulped. There was no easy explanation. All eyes were on her, except maybe Shinigami's – it was hard to tell.

"I… uh… I was searching for my mother." It was partially true, anyway.

Spirit looked devastated. Soul was in silent shock. The idea hadn't occurred to him at all; she'd rarely spoken about her mother, hadn't once mentioned wanting to look for her. This was, quite simply, out of the blue. _More proof that I don't know Maka well enough,_ said a tiny voice inside him.

"Ah, I'd guessed as such. Did you find her?" Shinigami asked.

"No… she didn't leave much of a trail," she replied, each word weighed with regret.

"Oh well. At least you're back at Shibusen! You know, we could use some extra staff. How would you like to teach the kindergarteners?" came the cheery response.

This was getting weirder and weirder. But she'd take any chance to get out of the conversation, fast. "Sure. In fact, I think I'll go introduce myself to them now," She left at a brisk pace, with Soul dashing to keep up. "Hold on, Maka! You can't just…"

Shinigami watched them leave, and then drank his tea with a contented sigh. "Did you see what I saw, Stein?"

"Yes, her soul wavelength was quite erratic, charged with emotion and uncertainty. Most likely from a secret she wants to keep."

"Mm, that's about right. Keep an eye on them, will you, Spirit?"

"Yessir, it's my duty as Death Scythe and, more importantly, a father," Spirit said as he choked back tears.

"Good to hear, good to hear."


	3. The Challenge

**03 – The Challenge**

**Author's note:** Wow, I write about Shinigami holding a teacup and it shows up in chapter 63! Do I share some psychic bond with Atsushi Ohkubo? Okay... make Soul x Maka canon next, please! (Hey, it was worth a try) Read and review, thanks!

* * *

It had been a strange turn of events. She didn't deserve to be welcomed back with open arms. Not after abandoning everything that held meaning to her. But she'd take what she could get. It was the only way to keep herself together; to avoid falling apart like shattered glass. Dimly, she heard a voice from behind her. She was too preoccupied to pay any heed.

"Oi, Maka! You can't just leave during a meeting! That was Shinigami-sama you were talking to!" Soul yelled breathlessly, only to be infuriated by her silence. What was going through her mind? He desperately wanted to know. It was bad enough that they were separated for three years. For her to return and be so aloof was torturous.

He grabbed her by the wrist. Almost imperceptibly, she flinched. Another blow to Soul's admittedly unstable state. One blow too many.

"What's come between us, Maka? Why did you leave at the height of our success?" The words spilled forth like lava. It was too late to stop. "Was I not good enough for you?"

Shaken firmly out of her daze, she turned to face him. This was the confrontation she'd been hoping to avoid. As they exchanged stares, she felt his grip growing uncomfortably tight. Out of defiance, and an equal amount of fear, she broke away wordlessly, running down the corridor - leaving Soul to punch the wall in exasperation.

"Hey, hey, it's my job to piss Kid off. Leave ruining the school's symmetry to me,"

It was Black Star, nonchalant as ever. Soul removed his hand from the wall, mildly surprised to find that it was bleeding.

"So what happened? You don't usually lose your cool in school, heh heh."

If Soul had been just a tad angrier, he might have punched his friend in the face. "Maka has returned," he stated briefly, not trusting his voice to stay neutral.

"Really? Cool! I have someone to bully again. But why would that make you angry?"

"She… she just ran off that way to avoid talking to me."

The blue-headed ninja scratched his head, saying: "Wow, that's harsh. Though it does lend credit to your theory that she left because she hated you,"

Great, the one time he got drunk – namely, on his eighteenth birthday - he'd wished Maka had been around to celebrate it with him. Instead Black Star was there to hear about his innermost fears. "Just shut up, okay?"

"Nah, I'm not very good at that. Besides, I can't let you stay angry. How about a round of basketball practice to get rid of that pent-up anger?"

Black Star's grin stretched from ear to ear. He may be an idiot, but at least he was a friend. Soul wasn't sure he could say the same of Maka. Not anymore. He took up the offer.

* * *

When had she been reduced to a coward? Oh, right. When she vanished from Shibusen. Vanished from the lives of those she mutually cared for. She ran away then, just as she was running now. When was she going to face her fears?

She stopped abruptly.

This was why she'd sought her mother. With only the irresponsible Spirit for a parent, she had nobody to confide in, nobody to ask for advice, nobody to guide her through the labyrinthine intricacies of life. And it wasn't as if Kami had died. To her teenage mind, it was simple. She would go and find her mother, learn under her tutelage, and come back mature in both mind and body. Of course, it went spectacularly wrong. She'd run out of cash earlier than expected, and had to walk most of the way. And it was a wild goose chase – there were no leads to go on, no trails to follow.

Not to mention, there was that creeping sensation that played upon her spine, on those lonely nights when she felt like a failure. In the wee hours of the morning, when she laid insomniac in a sleeping bag, a voice would whisper sweet temptations – offers of strength in exchange for her will. Sometimes, she agreed with the voice. Other times, she was horrified at herself. The black blood's influence was pervasive. She needed Soul's composure to regulate this... madness.

When the voice grew stronger, she knew it was only a matter of time, unless she returned to Shibusen, to her partner, to Soul. She turned the possibilities and consequences over in her mind for weeks. Would she be branded a delinquent, or worse, a traitor? In the end, she decided to face the music. It turned out those fears were unfounded; but in its place, an unforeseen problem had arisen. She could no longer connect with him.

"Onee-san, why are you crying?" A child was tugging at her cloak. Beside him, Mira Nygus held him by the other hand.

"I… I'm just sad. It's okay. Go on, don't you have a class?" She wiped the tears away.

He scurried off like the energetic kid he was. Nygus looked her in the eye and said: "Glad to see you back. Just heard about it from Sid. But are you alright, Maka?"

"I'm fine," she lied.

"Well, I've been caring for this class, but you can help with teaching duty now." It was hard to read Nygus' expression under the bandages. Oh well; the fewer the questions asked, the better. They headed for the classroom.

About twenty bright and eager faces stared up at her. They were remarkably well behaved, for children of five. She essayed an introduction.

"My name is Maka Albarn. I'm your new teacher,"

It was met with a chorus of jumbled greetings, as they tried out the name. "Maka-nee!" Someone piped up, addressing her with unwarranted familiarity. It spread quickly – soon they all called her by that. It was a touching gesture.

"It's time for them to learn the alphabet. Remember your own kindergarten days?" Nygus asked.

Maka did – each letter was taught with Shibusen-related terminology. "M is for meister," and so on. Thinking she could handle that, she plunged straight in. It was going without a hitch, until she paused at S.

"S is for… soul," The word was sour in her mouth. It carried too much meaning for her.

"What's a soul?" It was the child from the corridor.

"It's your inner self. That's where your feelings come from,"

"Is Maka-nee's soul hurt, then?"

She bit her lip. The double meaning of that question struck her, hard.

"No, not really," More lies. She willed herself to continue. The children didn't notice that her smiles were forced. After all, they were but children - naïve and innocent. They hadn't the chance to understand the nuances of human emotion. Stifling her pessimism, she soldiered on with the lesson.

* * *

"I really don't know what's happened to her. She refuses to communicate,"

Black Star feinted to the side in an attempt to get past the taller Soul.

"Well, women ARE impossible to understand," His feint having failed, he attempted a three-pointer. The ball sailed over Soul's head, but missed its mark.

"Yeah, grand idea to ask _you_ for advice," Soul grumbled as he went to fetch the ball. "Last shot,"

"Hey, why don't you just ask her about it?" Black Star changed his stance to block Soul from advancing. "I mean, when she doesn't have a chance to escape,"

With some quick footwork, Soul dodged past his friend and landed a slam-dunk. "I'll consider it,"

They strolled back to the campus, making small talk on the way. Black Star was mumbling something about "must've cheated…" when Maka emerged from a nearby entrance. Something about Soul caught her eye. The towel draped over his shoulder, the fabric of his tank top sticking to his sweaty torso… She found herself blushing involuntarily. Then she swiftly looked away, embarrassed at her own reaction. Alarm bells went off in Soul's head. Black Star, on the other hand, was blissfully oblivious to all this.

"Heyyyyy! Maka! Old friend!" The ninja playfully greeted her with a punch to the arm. "What have you been up to?"

"Ah, well, I've been travelling." Still looking away.

"You gotta tell us all about it! In fact, let's throw a party to celebrate your return!"

Now Maka was flustered. "R…really? That's too kind!"

"Nonsense! I'll get it all organized. Anyway, Soul here has been dying to ask you why you left, isn't that right?"

Soul cupped his face in his hands. "You really are an expert in inappropriate confrontations, aren't you?"

And now, Maka was indignant. Her nerves were considerably frayed from the past few hours. "It's not really your business,"

"Oho, I welcome you back and you react like that? And _none of my business?_ All of us want to know why you left!" Black Star was getting riled up. And everyone knew what happens when he gets riled up. "Tomorrow, a duel. One-on-one, unarmed combat. If you lose, you tell us your big, fat secret. If I lose, _ha ha,_ like that'll happen…"

"Then you pay for the whole party," Soul offered, chuckling. Maybe inappropriate confrontations really were the way to go.

"It's on," Maka said, grinning as confidently as she could muster.

"This will be classic! I better tell Tsubaki to bring a camcorder. That way I can watch your humiliating defeat again… and again…" Black Star walked off, chortling to himself. Soul waved him goodbye.

"He hasn't changed one bit," Maka stated, matter-of-factly.

"Yup. You can count on that. Let's go home,"

They made their way to the car park. Soul's gleaming motorbike stood out from the other vehicles. Straddling the bike, he revved it up, the motor giving a throaty thrum in response. Then he held out a hand. "Getting on?"

She smiled, and took his hand.

They raced out of the school grounds. Buildings whizzed past as he skilfully navigated the tricky streets. Death City was hauntingly beautiful at night. It was something about the moonlight, perhaps. It cast an eerie pallor over the gothic architecture, lending it a somewhat dreamlike appearance. _As if it were stuck in a perpetual Halloween,_ Maka thought.

And they all wore masks. Façades. Mere parodies of contentment, really. One had to pretend to cope.

Or was it just her? Maybe that was just her despair speaking. She wasn't sure of anything, anymore. But here was Soul, her partner, solid and dependable. In fact, his back suddenly looked quite inviting. So she decided to lean against it.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He didn't need to ask what for.


End file.
